


Bigger Bitch than Payback

by Imagining_in_the_Margins



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Collars, Established Relationship, F/M, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Light Dom/sub, No Plot/Plotless, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn, Rope Bondage, Self-Insert, Sex, Shameless Smut, Smut, Sub Spencer Reid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:01:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24720493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imagining_in_the_Margins/pseuds/Imagining_in_the_Margins
Summary: Sub!Spencer has to pay for kissing Cat, and Reader is all too ready to conduct the punishment.
Relationships: Spencer Reid/Original Female Character(s), Spencer Reid/Reader, Spencer Reid/You
Comments: 6
Kudos: 106





	Bigger Bitch than Payback

Isn’t rope such a handy tool? You can do so much with it. For example, you can use it to hang a plant, pitch a tent, or put up a clothesline.

Or, you can use it to tie your boyfriend’s hands behind his back after you catch him _full on_ making out with a serial killer.

Happily humming as my hands worked, Spencer seemed far too calm for what was going to happen to him. I got the feeling that he didn’t think I was capable of honestly being mean to him. After all, I was a sweetheart, right?

“You seem awful confident for a man who was just caught cheating.”

Spencer smiled, turning his head to look at me from his position reverse straddling a chair. “I think that’s a little unfair. And I’m not confident so much as I am excited to see you try to be the one in charge.”

I rolled my eyes, pushing his head back around to face away from me. Once I finished fastening the rope, I ran my hands up his bare back and shoulders, settling over him from behind.

“Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.”

He didn’t move in response, instead just rambling, “You know, that’s not the correct quote. The full, original quote by William Congreve is ‘Heaven has no rage, like love to hatred turned, nor hell a fury like a w—”

I covered his mouth with my hand, leaning towards his ear as I whispered through clenched teeth, “I don’t need to know the quote to make you understand it. Turn around.”

Standing up as I issued the command, I backed away from him, deciding to inspect my current most valuable possession. He looked so cute, but he was missing one more thing.

He watched me carefully as I walked to my purse, pulling out a small strap of leather adorned with a small metal charm.

“Since you want to behave like a dog, I found the perfect accessory for how I expect you to behave tonight.”

He smirked as I showed him the words “Good Boy” scrawled across the metal, still somehow not taking me seriously. But he will.

He will.

I sat down in his lap, settling against his already present erection straining against his pants as I wrapped the collar around his neck, fastening it with enough room for my fingers to slip underneath it.

Spencer was trying very hard to look as unbothered as possible despite obviously wanting me. I grabbed his chin tightly with one hand, tilting him to look me dead in the eyes.

“Tonight I’m going to offer you several chances to kiss me properly. _I_ will decide if you’ve done enough. You will not cum until _I_ am satisfied. Do I make myself clear?”

There was a brief, subtle change in his eyes. A flash clarity and excitement so quick I almost missed it.

“Crystal,” he responded.

“Good boy.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he heard the words. I wound my fingers through his hair, pulling gently on it to position him better for me to allow his first attempt. But before I could make contact, he stopped me.

“What should I call you?”

This was something I’d thought _extensively_ about. Truthfully, there are so many options. I know for a fact this man has Mommy issues (as Cat also very kindly pointed out), but this isn’t about his mother. This is about him and that **stupid fucking bitch**.

“Well, since you seem to treat them so much better than me, you will call me _Mistress_.”

He gave a slight little nod, bumping our noses together as he did. When he didn’t say anything, I pulled tighter on his hair, and felt the way his breath shifted.

“Use your words.”

“Yes, _Mistress_ ,” the word just a bit too rushed for my liking.

“Good boy,” I cooed, “Here’s your first try.”

Our lips met cautiously, the way he always kissed me. It was nice. Gentle, tender, and sweet. But I didn’t want sweet. I wanted hungry. I wanted angry. Desperate.

I separated from him, already tired of not getting what I wanted. The disgruntled noise I made gave him his answer, and his hips shifted under me.

“I’m sorry,” he started, and I gave him a warning glance before he finished with, “Mistress.”

Taking advantage of the fact he was already getting antsy with me on his lap, I pulled his face to my chest, beginning to slowly rock my hips against his.

“Practice.” I vaguely instructed, and he thankfully understood. He pressed soft, experimental kisses against my chest. He couldn’t access all of the skin, my bra stopping him from reaching the parts he undoubtedly wanted to touch the most.

I kept rocking, enjoying the friction caused by my underwear rubbing against his pants. After a moment, I found the perfect position to grind against his member through the pants. I was rewarded with a stifled groan from him against my chest. His kisses picked up, quickly becoming more involved.

Recognizing the pleasure he was getting from it was more than I was enjoying, I immediately halted my movements, shifting back out of his reach and wrapping my legs around one of his, now positioned only on his thigh.

“This isn’t about you, _Spencer_ ,” I grumbled as I began to rock against his leg, something dark morphing in his eyes as he lost the stimulation he craved. He tried to lean forward to be able to kiss me again, but I extended my arm, shoving him roughly back against the chair.

“If you want to say you like bad girls, I’m going to be the most miserable bitch you’ve ever fucking met. Now stay,” I barked.

His breath was unsteady, and I could tell he was already pulling at his restraints. I had to grin, continuing to ride his leg and enjoying the way he was almost completely powerless to take what he wanted.

I say almost, because within a few seconds, he was pushing his thigh up against me, almost lifting me off the ground. His eyes were sharp, his tongue wetting his lips in an almost threatening manner.

The visual was unbelievably attractive, and I released his hair from my grasp to use it for something far more exciting. I hooked a few fingers under his collar, holding onto it to create tension as I made him watch me rub desperately against him.

“Your plan has a problem, Mistress.” He said cheekily, a happy grin on his face as he leaned into my hand, “I love watching what I do to you. I don’t even have to touch you and you’re already so close.”

Fuck, I hate him so much sometimes.

“That fucking mouth of yours is exactly what gets you in trouble.”

That playful little look of his just pissed me off more. I climbed off of his lap, standing in front of him with my fingers still hooked around his collar. I tugged on it, leading him off the chair but refusing to let him stand yet. He obeyed the limits, dropping onto his knees in front of me.

“I wonder what I should make you do with it,” I pondered aloud, stepping closer so he was face to face with my hips. I could hear the way his breath shook with anticipation, sparking something devilish in me. I let go of the strip around his neck and pressed his face against the skin of my thigh.

“I bet you sound precious when you beg.”

His breath was hot against my skin, and I sighed as I felt the way he tilted his face up to my core, rubbing gently against the silk fabric keeping us apart.

“Please, Mistress, I can do so much better when I can touch you.”

“Do you think I’m fucking stupid? I heard what you just said.”

He was trying to stay in control, but I could feel the way his patience was running low. I slipped my foot between his legs, enjoying the way his dick twitched against my shin as it pressed against it. A small noise escaped his lips as he bucked his hips against me, and I couldn’t help but give a small giggle.

“Oh, you’re that desperate, huh?” I teased. Spencer’s face was now nuzzling in-between my thighs, grinding slowly against whatever contact he could make with my leg.

I slid my hand under the collar, gripping his neck as I demanded, “Get up.”

His frustration was clear in the way his legs almost imperceptibly trembled, his pants straining to contain him. But still, he stood, looking down at me through eyes becoming clouded with desire.

“I can touch you if you want, Spencer. You just have to ask.” His eyes were darting between mine as I spoke sweetly, my hand dragging down his stomach and dipping into the waistband of his pants.

“Wait—“ He called, and I raised an eyebrow as he struggled to speak. I didn’t bother stopping, reminding him that he has no power to order me to do shit.

“Th-that’s a trick. The rule wasn’t about t-touch,” he concluded, hissing as I grabbed his member inside his pants.

“Such a _smart boy_ ,” I praised as I introduced more friction, rubbing my hand up and down him.

“What was the rule, Spencer?” I drawled, bringing my lips to his neck and lazily running a tongue up his jugular.

“I-I can’t…” He trailed off, his head rolling back as I sucked gently on the skin, my other hand working to release the pressure caused by his pants and allow me more freedom to work him.

“Can’t what? Spit it out.”

His hips were torn between wanting to lean into my touch and wanting to pull away, which led to a very problematic position, as he ended up just thrusting into my hand.

“ _Please_ , Mistress,” he finally begged, and I paused my ministrations for a moment. It was time for try two.

I guided him to the edge of the bed with one hand on his collar and another on his cock. Once he was leaned against it, I used both hands to pull down his pants, my eyes hungrily taking in the way his body was responding to me.

Once I had enough, I pressed my entire body against his. This time when our mouths met, his breath was hard and labored, and his tongue slid against mine, reaching as far as he can into me. This was the only way he was allowed to touch me.

I hummed as I considered whether it was enough, rubbing our noses together and parting.

“Close, but… No. I don’t think you want me bad enough.”

Unintelligible curses were muttered under his breath as I began to sink down before him, and I glanced up to see his eyes were closed. He already knew what I was planning.

It didn’t stop me, though. Once I was on my knees, I dragged my tongue up his arousal, closing my lips around the head in a sloppy kiss. One hand held his hips down against the bed, the other wrapped firmly around his cock.

“Fuck,” I heard from above me.

“Is there a problem?” I questioned, running my mouth over him again.

“ _No_ ,” he lied through clenched teeth. His muscles tensed as he tried to pull at his hands, his knees giving in to the temptation to buckle.

“If you want me to fuck you, I can. Is that what you want, pretty boy?” I didn’t wait for his response, taking his member into my mouth and sinking down onto him. If he was trying to answer “yes” or “no” it was not clear. There were no words at all, just sharp gasps and moans he tried to swallow.

“Mistress,” he said through a moan, “Please, _please_ don’t do this.”

I would smile or respond if I could, but I can’t. My mouth and hands are full. So instead I just look up at him, coyly batting my eyelashes.

A high-pitched whine slipped through his mouth, and I hummed through a chuckle. The vibrations certainly didn’t help. I could feel him holding on to every muscle in his body, trying to still the way his hips bucked against my mouth.

He looked down at me as I continued, which was clearly a bad idea. I hollowed my cheeks, swirling my tongue around every inch of him I could reach.

“Please, I’m _begging_ you.” His throaty groan signaled that he was hitting a breaking point, which was my cue to actually listen to him. Slowly drawing away, I kept my mouth tight around him until the very end.

“Thank god,” he sighed, relaxing back against the bed once more. Rising to my feet with an incredulous look on my face, I crossed my arms.

“God? God isn’t the one you should be thanking, Spencer.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry, Mistress. Thank you.” His rushed, frantic tone only served to irritate me. Like he was just saying what I wanted to hear.

“Try again.”

Still struggling to breathe at a normal pace, he cleared his throat, trying to stand up straighter and look me in the eyes again.

“Thank you, Mistress. Let me make it up to you.”

I called him forward with a single finger, putting a hand up to stop him as he got close enough. “This is your second to last chance, so you better make it good.”

This time my hands were still crossed over my chest as he lunged forward, his mouth closing over mine like he could actually devour me whole. I gasped into the kiss, a smile on my lips. He used his legs to frame mine, switching our positions so that _I_ was against the end of the bed. I braced myself against the mattress, still refusing to touch him.

His hips rocked against me, and I laughed into the kiss as it ended. He trailed his face down as he recognized defeat. Truthfully, he did very well this time. If I had some mercy, I would have let him end there. But I don’t.

Oops!

Although, it would be more fun to let him have his hands for this next part. Tilting my chin up, I gestured for him to turn around. After another moment to catch his breath, he did, finally resigned to my control. Poor thing.

The sigh of relief I heard when I began to undo the knots around his wrist was a beautiful, pitiful sound. I dropped the rope to the ground, gently massaging the red marks on his wrists.

“Poor, sweet boy,” I murmured, my hands sliding up his arms and back. “Don’t be so pitiful. You make me want to torture you more.”

He dutifully left his hands behind his back, apparently ready to listen to me. With a soft shove, I pushed him over to the bed, which he crawled on with only a little difficulty.

I giggled, watching him grab his own wrists, his eyes closed as he undoubtedly tried to concentrate on something else. No chance.

Carefully and cruelly, I slowly stripped off my undergarments before I crawled on top of him, taking joy in the way he squirmed under me.

“I’m fucked, aren’t I?” He finally uttered, right as I came to sit below his hips, his arousal becoming damp from rubbing against mine.

“Not yet you aren’t,” I joked. “Don’t worry, little boy. I’m not ready for that yet.”

He was muttering curses and prayers under his breath again, and I slowly made my way up, sitting on his chest.

“If you can’t kiss my mouth right, how about you try kissing something _else_?”

I could feel his heart pounding against me on his chest, barely able to take a satisfying, deep breath with my weight on him.

“Can I touch you?” He asked softly, looking up at me with the first genuine pleading look I’d seen so far.

“Of course, darling.” I crooned, running my hands down the sides of his face with a simper.

His hands immediately came to my hips, running harshly across my skin before gripping me tightly.

“Please, Mistress, let me make you feel good.” His hands were trying to coax me to move onto his face, and who was I to deny him? “I can do better,” he continued.

Lifting myself to let him take a full breath once more, I made my way up. His hands had stubbornly refused to leave me now that he was granted permission to touch me, and he followed me up to straddle his face.

I didn’t even have to lower myself, as he lifted himself and pulled me down at the same time. Caught off guard, I let out a low, full moan as I settled onto his mouth.

His arms now wrapped around my legs, he held me apart as his tongue immediately penetrated me, lapping up the dripping arousal from our earlier activities.

Usually in this situation, I would be bashful and reserved. But something about the absolutely animalistic way he was devouring me made me lose control. I rocked against his mouth, desperate to feel how badly he wanted me.

Once his mouth attached to my clit, I knew I wouldn’t last very long at all. Alternating between short, powerful flicks of his tongue and suction, my legs were convulsing around him within a matter of moments. Thankfully, he was holding me up as I attempted to hold onto the headboard to keep myself positioning perfectly for him to continue.

And he did, even past the point of overstimulation. At one point, I tried to pull away, but his hands pulled me back down and he somehow got _faster_.

Thankfully, both of my hands had a white-knuckle grip on the metal headboard. Because Spencer had removed one of his hands, bringing it down and slipping two fingers straight into my heat.

“S-Spencer!” I cried out, my legs immediately closing around his face. He didn’t even slow down, probably because he knew it would only be a few seconds until another orgasm hit me like a truck. When it did, he continued to pump into me, moaning harshly against my sensitive pearl at the crest of my center.

This time, when I finished, I forced myself off of him, flipping off of him into a sitting position. Running a hand through my hair, I tried to compose myself enough to continue to assert control.

If this was his plan to fight the dominatrix out of me, it was fucking _genius_. But I expected no less from him. And I had kept something up my sleeve for this exact situation.

I took a deep breath before I turned back to see him lazily wiping my essence from his face, staring at me with that same hungry look from when we started. His eyes were challenging me, asking, ‘ _Have you had enough?_ ’

Mine replied a firm, ‘ ** _No._** ’

Climbing on top of him with trembling legs, I returned to my position under his hips. When my hands gripped his erection, he actually fucking whimpered.

Pathetic. Adorable.

“You know, I think I figured it out, Spencer.”

He looked up at me expectantly, his hands hovering over my legs as he remembered that he’s supposed to ask my permission. He seemed scared to touch me, too, knowing that I still hadn’t agreed to relieve him of our deal.

“Maybe the reason why you want her so badly is because for even the briefest moment, you thought she might be carrying your child.”

My hands were slowly working him, tortuously varying pressure and length of strokes. He looked at me with such a powerful, threatening aura I might have been scared if he wasn’t such a mess below me.

“If that’s what you want, Spencer… I can offer my services. Why haven’t you ever asked?”

I could hear the way his breath caught in his throat as I lifted my hips, moving to position myself over him. Realistically, we both knew that it was impossible for me to get pregnant right now— but that wasn’t the point. I knew what he wanted, and I knew how to make him think about it.

“ _Please_ , I can’t hold on much longer if you do this, Mistress. I can’t do it.” He was so distressed, and I gave a wicked grin as I began to sink down onto him, barely moving a centimeter at a time.

“That sounds like a _Spencie_ problem, love.” I spat, feeling the way I began to stretch around him. “If you cum before I tell you to, I won’t let you finish for a _month_ , do you understand?”

He didn’t ask this time, his hands pressing into my skin so strongly that my muscles shook at the contact.

“Let me try again,” he begged, his eyes shut tightly as his labored breathing spoke a tale of impossibly steeled self-control.

Deciding to show him just a tiny piece of mercy, I dropped myself down the rest of the length on him, taking pride in the breathy moan he gave in response. I leaned forward, my hands holding me up.

“Kiss me, Spencer.” I ordered, lowering down to whisper against his lips, “and make it good.”

Agitated, delirious, and desperate, his hands tied into my hair and pulled me down into an overwrought, sloppy kiss. His hips thrusting up into me, we both shared the same moans, breathing in the way we struggled to hold it together.

The way I tasted on his tongue mixed with his taste on mine. Our limbs were tangled together, with sweat and arousal coating our skin. In that moment, I felt like it would be impossible to tell where Spencer ended and I began.

I got what I wanted.

But he wasn’t done yet, and using all of the strength he had withheld, he lifted both of our bodies, fervently flipping me onto my back without ever disconnecting us.

When my back hit the bed, my heels dug into his back. A string of broken moans flowed from my throat as he gave one strong thrust. Still, with those big brown puppy dog eyes, he was begging me to let him let go.

“Fuck me,” I ordered. 

He pulled out once; staggered, pained breaths as he waited to return, obviously scared that he would finish at any second. I pulled him back with my feet wrapped around him, and he fell forward onto his forearms.

“(Y/n),” he rasped before correcting himself to, “ _Mistress_.”

My hand slid around the back of his neck, and pulled tightly on the collar, watching as the flushed skin blanched around the pressure.

“Fuck me until you finish, and you better not waste a single drop. I want to feel you dripping down my legs _all weekend._ ”

Watching the way his face morphed from pain to bliss was so rewarding. He snapped his hips into me with full force, his hands gripping the sheets beside my head as he made direct eye contact.

I let the moans tumble out of my chest, bringing a hand down to where our bodies met so I could finish myself. Poor thing deserved a little bit of slack; he had already done so well with his mouth.

What was unexpected, though, was when his mouth joined mine again, swallowing a moan as his tongue wrapped around my own. Breathing hard through my nose, I began to more rapidly chase my third orgasm, feeling the way he quickened to an almost impossible pace and depth.

I’m not sure which of us came first, or if it was truly at the same time. All I know is that the rush of warmth within me as he filled me, with everything he had to offer, pushed a normal climax to other heights.

My face contorted into a silent scream, a hand wrapping around his back just to drag raw, red scratch marks along its path. Spencer didn’t stay propped up much longer, falling onto me with his full body weight as his orgasm began to fade, the dopamine coursing through his veins.

When my muscles fluttered around him one more time, he chirped from the overstimulation. I tried to laugh but could barely make a noise as he crushed my lungs.

I pushed him up, and he groaned as he began to slip out of me as he got up. My toes curled and my back arched at the motion, and he halted mid-movement.

“Fuck,” he hissed, “you’re like a fucking Chinese finger trap.”

That was all I needed to devolve into a fit of exhausted laughter, and soon he was lying beside me, laughing all the same.

I turned my body to face him, scooting over a few inches before I was unable to do anything else. I could already feel the evidence of our little tryst dripping down my thighs.

“I have to get up,” I whined, pouting as he turned his head towards me, his body refusing to budge yet. “…But I have a favor to ask.”

He clenched his jaw, wincing as he ran a hand over his face, peeking at me through the gaps in his fingers.

“What is it?” He asked cautiously.

“Will you kiss me?”

He smiled, forcing himself to sit up enough to close the gap between us. He bent over, his hand gently cradling my face as he gave me the most tender, heartfelt kiss. Butterflies spread through my stomach and chest, and I sighed against his lips.

I was finally content, because I know that Cat’s never been kissed like this.


End file.
